


Sewn

by On_Sonnshine



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Body Horror, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Gore, Mouth Sewn Shut, SO, because Logan god told to shut up thrice, this is post-Can Anxiety Be Good, yknow, you know what I had to yabba dabba do
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-05-05 01:16:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14606001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/On_Sonnshine/pseuds/On_Sonnshine
Summary: Patton tells Logan to shut up, and well...Logan takes it to heart.





	1. Why Isn't It Good?

Logan stared at the stitching material laid out on the bathroom counter, at the needle held in his hand. The vaguest hints of fear swirled in the pit of his stomach, and Logan takes a deep breath, more than a little nauseated by the sensation. He closes his eyes for a moment, biting his lip.  
  
This was the most logical solution.  
  
If Patton, even _Patton_ , the _nice_ one, who'd given him so many chances before- ones he'd squandered like the selfish fool he was, mind you- felt that he spoke far, far too often…then this was the most logical solution.  
  
As much as it pained him to admit, he did love the others…yes, they could be a bit annoying at times, but Logan knew he himself was no walk in the park either. Certainly, he loved them and valued their opinions far more than he would ever be man enough to say. Some of their opinions, at the least. Most, to Logan's biased, narcissistic mind, were frivolous, and stupid, and needless, but he hoped to overcome that part of himself. He was trying. For once.  
  
So, this would be the best route, wouldn't it? It would appeal to Patton's emotional approach, to Roman's self-righteous, to Virgil's practical.  
  
‘Taking one for the team', you could say. If his mouth was sewn, he couldn’t prattle on and on needlessly. He couldn’t insult and degrade, he couldn't steal the show, or throw a tantrum when the spotlight was shifted away from him. He couldn't go on and on about hard truths that nobody wanted to hear. He would be liked. They would _like_ him, and he might even _deserve_ that affection, one day. He’d be a favourable person to have around.  
  
That sounded nice.  
  
Logan sighed deeply, flickering his eyes open once more and meeting his own gaze in the mirror. Slowly, he raised the needle. His other hand jerked up to take hold of his wrist, steadying his trembling hand, eyes focusing on the way the metal glinted.  
  
_Taking one for the team._  
  
_This was for his- no. Not his. This was for the family he selfishly wanted, despite not deserving._  
  
_This was what everybody wanted._  
  
_He’d be likable. He'd be_ _**liked.**_  
  
_That sounded nice._  
  
///  
  
‘Lo…gan?’ Patton turned away from the pancakes he’d been making, directing his- now rather perplexed- gaze to Logan, ‘Why are you...wearing that?’  
  
Patton loosely gestured towards the surgical mask shielding the lower half of Logan’s face, head cocking. Logan lifted his hand, wincing- _attempting to open your mouth is futile, nimrod, that’s the entire damn point_. Silently, he resorted to a shrug.  
  
Slowly, Patton frowns, and his blue, blue eyes narrow  
  
‘Are you feelin’ okay Lo?' He barely pauses for an answer, hands propping on his hips, 'You’re not sick again, are you? Kiddo, you know it doesn't bother me to take care of you when you’re sick, I l-’ Logan waves a hand, almost frantically, shaking his head.  
  
Patton reaches out to rest a hand against the back of his forehead either way, and Logan grimaces, stumbling slightly in an attempt to get _away_ from the touch, springing back a few steps and earning raised eyebrows and a concerned, if chastising, 'Logan...'  
  
Logan flinches under the touch when Patton steps forward, taking hold of his shoulder and successfully resting the back of his hand against the younger Side's forehead. At finding no evidence of a fever, he blinks, mouth twisting into a confused frown. Reluctantly, he retreats, giving Logan a once-over.  
  
_See? He’s worried about you. He_ _**cares.**_ _You would’ve lost this if you’d continued behaving so; being needlessly cruel, throwing hissy fits when you weren't the center of attention- really! It’s no surprise they’d get sick of you, now is it? Though, one can't say you wouldn't deserve the abandonment._  
  
'Still, though, Lo, are you...are you sure nothing’s wrong? I- I know yesterday was-’ Logan closes his eyes, turning his head and raising a hand in halt.  
  
Logan makes a half-muffled chuckling noise, exhaling it nearly. He reaches out in the suddenly tense silence, patting Patton's shoulder gingerly before turning on his heel and swiftly finding his seat at the table, dropping into his chair and silently propping his chin in his hand, leaving Patton a bit stunned and more than befuddled.  
  
Logan hardly realizes it when the others eventually trail in, blinking tiredly and fighting not to fall asleep right then and there at the table, not acknowledging or seeming to notice their perplexed stares and soft discussions with Patton.  
  
They seat around him soon enough, but it's really only when a hand rests on his shoulder, does Logan snap back to reality, jolting, head jerking to face whoever had touched him and entire body shying away from the contact.  
  
Patton stood there, hand falling back to his side and concern lacing his features, a plate of pancakes and a cup of coffee in hand. It's one of Logan's mugs, Logan notes wearily. Logan looks to the others, hating the way they're either staring or attempting to make it look like they're not. He must've zoned out.  
  
That didn’t happen often, but he hadn’t gotten much sleep last night. It had turned into quite the bloody ordeal and he’d been up to 4AM. Three hours of restless sleep was all that had followed, so you could imagine.  
  
(Though, he’d eventually cleaned it up and managed to see that the stitches had come out clean and neat. Thank god.)  
  
‘You seem…tired, Lo…you’re not over-working yourself again, are you?’  
  
Logan sighs a little, tilting his head, and if he could smile without tugging the stitches, he’d have a small, fond smile on his face. Patton always worries. It’s nice.  
  
At least now, he might begin to, one day, be deserving of that worry- now that he can’t be selfish, nor such a nuisance, constantly rambling on about something no one cares about, or giving advice no one wants or acting far too haughty for who he actually was, what he actually did- which was fuck all, that is.  
  
Logan shakes his head, and Patton seems to reluctantly accept, blinking and grimacing a little, inhaling, ‘Well...’ Patton carefully offers out the plate and mug, trailing off.  
  
The urge to thank him for the care pushed at Logan's chest, burned up his throat like bile, but all he could do was nod and hum, and hope his eyes carried gratitude as he gently took the items from Patton. To some degree of Logan's relief, Patton didn’t seem fussed by the lack of a thank you- seemed even further put off by it, but not annoyed, thank the lord.  
  
Patton slid into his seat by Logan, and Logan hoped that'd be the end of it.  
  
But then, he didn’t start eating.  
  
Logan dipped his spoon into his coffee, absently swirling it around and around, head propped on his fist, but he didn’t start eating, or even move to take a sip of the coffee. An oddity, considering Logan was almost always the one to finish first and escape back up to his room.  
  
The boys were able to stand it for about 5 minutes before one of them finally broke the silence.  
  
‘Not gonna eat, L?’ Virgil’s tone was gentle, an attempt at casual as he picked at his last pancake, and Logan barely started, this time. Even still, he paused to scold himself as his spoon clinked harshly against his mug and the coffee came dangerously close to sloshing onto the table.  
  
Logan shook his head, tempted to try a tired smile, but deciding against it. He doesn’t want the stitches to rip- he doubts bleeding through the mask will be a good way to break it to them.  
  
The boys all share a surreptitious uneasy look- Logan never skipped breakfast. They’d all done it at one point or another, but Logan was anal about things like that- skipping meals was something he wasn't a stranger to, of course, but breakfast was a point, for him. He’d only ever skipped if he was sick, and he didn’t seem sick, now.  
  
‘Is your uh-' Deceit clears his throat, pausing to turn away from nibbling at his nails and picking up his glass, 'Sore throat?’ Patton looks up, fork pausing in place, and Logan is tempted to shoot a longing look towards the door.  
  
But instead of fleeing as he wished so dearly, he shakes his head once more, waving his hand in a negative motion.  
  
Do you know the definition of a catalyst? It's defined within the Oxford Dictionary as '1.1, A person or thing that precipitates an event'.  
  
Now, the word precipitate is defined as, 'To cause (an event or situation, typically one that is undesirable) to happen suddenly, unexpectedly, or prematurely.' However, this word has many meanings. For example, 'There, by dint of looking closely about me, I found a rough zigzag descending path notched out, which I followed. The cutting was extremely deep, and unusually precipitate. It was made through a clammy stone, that became oozier and wetter as I went down', Charles Dickens 'The Signal-Man'.  
  
In this sentence, one could come to the conclusion that 'precipitate' is being incorrectly used by Dickens to describe a wet, i.e, rain-covered, pathway.  
  
Precipitate is also a word found deeply rooted in the scientific community, however in our small, small little situation here, as I sit typing this in my swiftly darkening room, all that truly needs to be known, is that the next few moments of breath precipitated an awkwardly stated joke, one like you might hear in small, fire-lit cottages as a broken family gathers 'round a table to eat their cabbage water and rather pink chicken, and seconds later, unknowingly became the catalyst to a whirl-wind of pure emotion. And though I could go on to tell you of the phrase 'whirl-winds' origins, I'd rather just show you.  
  
Another uneasy look.  
  
Logan reaches up to tug the surgical mask a little higher, nervous, almost a tic.  
  
Roman shifts in his seat, reaching up to scratch at the back of his neck and offering his own nervous chuckle, speaking in an attempt to alleviate the tension in the room, ‘Ha, Lo, you’d think you’re hiding something, what with that mask.’  
  
This is where this word comes into play.  
  
Logan shakes his head out of pure, dumb instinct. _No_. He knows he’s made a mistake, locking eyes with a tense Deceit, near pleading with nothing but his eyes.  
  
It doesn't matter.  
  
Virgil has noticed how tense Deceit has gone, and he looks between them briefly before facing Logan again, eyes narrowed just a little but features imploring  
  
‘Logan,’ Virgil starts tentatively, sounding near fearful of the answer, ‘What’s under the mask?’  
  
Logan knows a flush is creeping up his neck, and he _really_ didn’t want to show them like this, but then again, wouldn’t they be pleased? This was better. He couldn’t hurt them anymore. This was what they’d wanted. What Patton had wanted.  
  
This would be good.  
  
‘Lo…take off the mask. Please.’ Now it’s Patton setting a hand on his shoulder, gentle, tone stiff, tense.  
  
Logan ducks his head slightly, grimacing, and then he sighs and nods minutely, reaching up to hook a finger on the mask, tugging it down to rest around his neck in one sharp motion, revealing the neat stitches that effectively locked his mouth tightly closed.  
  
4 different noises ring out over the table, each distinct.  
  
There’s a gasp from Virgil, a sharp intake of breath from Deceit, a quiet swear from Roman, and a shaky ‘oh my god’ from Patton, each making Logan flinch a little more.  
  
Wasn’t this good? They’d wanted this, _Patton_ had wanted this. They wanted him to shut up, they wanted him to _stop_ , so he did. Permanently.  
  
Logan looks up just in time to catch Patton dry-heave, hand flying to cover his mouth, eyes flitting between Logan's mouth and his eyes.  
‘L-Logan why-’ Virgil’s voice is shaky and he and Deceit are leaning heavily against each other. Virgil looks to be in pain, no doubt feeling a lot of…er, _bad feelings_ from the rest of the boys. Logan could slap himself for doing this, for _hurting_ them, _still_ hurting them, no matter what he did he kept _hurting them_.  
  
Logan's breath stutters, brows furrowing as he looks between them. His confusion reads clear, and their stomachs churn.  
  
‘Y…you did this to your-yourself?’ Roman speaks then, grimacing as the light hits the stitches where Logan nods.  
  
‘F-for…why? For- for…’ Patton swallows thickly, lifting his head and looking at Logan. Tears glisten in his eyes and Logan has to restrain himself from reaching out, touching, comforting- _like he deserved that much after what he had done, what he was_ _**doing.**_  
  
‘L-Lo, Logan…please- _please_ tell me this- this isn’t…because o-of what _I_ s-said it’s n- not…’  
  
Foolish, foolish human instinct.  
  
Logan nods. Cocks his head, tilts, just a bit. He doesn't mean to. He hates himself for it the second he makes the move.  
  
This has been a long time coming- what Patton said was just a catalyst, really- (I told you that word was important). Logan had just been too self-absorbed to before, to do it, to finally do something about his awful behaviour. Patton only lit the match- it was Logan who poured the gasoline.  
  
So yeah, it was because of what Patton said. Kind of.  
  
Logan couldn’t very well explain that, though.  
  
Patton stares at him for a second, a long, long, silent second, frozen, and then his arm flies to his stomach, face burning a bright red. He gags, and then he’s leapt to his feet, fleeing the room, probably heading to the bathroom, and Roman’s after him immediately, leaving Logan with Virgil and Deceit.  
  
Deceit lets out a shaky breath- he knows pain, he knows what it feels like having your skin pierced deliberately, intentionally.  
  
He knew pain. He could...not help. Sympathize.  
  
Deceit pushes himself up onto shaky legs, leaning heavily on the table for a long moment, before he straightens, walking around the table and slipping into Patton's chair.  
  
Slowly, he opens an arm in a silent offer. He feels nauseous seeing the stitches so close-up, but he fights the urge. The time for freaking out is later.  
  
Logan stares at him for a second, brows arching- for some reason, he feels a growing lump in his throat. Why does he want to cry? This is good.  
  
This is good?  
  
This is for his- desired- _family_ , it _has_ to be good…right?  
  
But then he’s blinking and a tear, then two, are dripping down his cheeks and he’s leant into Deceit, burying his face into the younger Side’s shoulder and wincing when it agitates his sore, sore mouth.  
  
Deceit wraps his arms around the other Side readily, burying his face into Logan’s hair. He winces when Logan lets out a sharp, muffled noise that sounds like it was an attempt at a sob, and Logan tenses at how it tugs harshly at the stitches, hands clutching at Deceit’s sweater.  
  
_This was supposed to be good._  
  
_Why isn’t it good?_  
  
_Why aren’t they happy?_  
  
_Why am I not happy?_  
  
_This was supposed to be_ **_good._**


	2. No One To Blame (But Yourself)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patton's perspective.

Patton stared at himself in the mirror.  
  
His eyes were bloodshot, red and puffy from crying, dark bags beneath them. His hoodie rested limply around his shoulders, barely registered.  
  
_yourfaultyourfaultyourfaultyourfaultyourfault_  
  
Just judging from all of that alone, you wouldn’t think it, but things were looking up a bit, at the very least.  
  
Well, as up as they _could_ , given the circumstances.  
  
Logan had been coerced into communicating through writing, though it had taken over two weeks. Even then, he did it solely in bursts- he’d often suddenly pause or jolt and hastily set his phone down and that was it, he was done communicating for the day.  
  
Though in the time he did type to them, he’d explained a lot.  
  
A lot.  
  
He’d explained that Patton wasn’t wholly at fault but he was a, haha, catalyst. In all honesty, that was all Patton needed to hear. He’d known it anyways but hearing it straight from Logan felt like being shot in the heart.  
  
_YOURFAULTYOURFAULTYOURFAULTYOURYOURFAULTYOURFAULT_  
  
Logan had mentioned that he’d nearly ripped the stitches, but had also mentioned that he could ‘tighten them’, 'top them up', if need be. The boys shudder to think how he’d manage that.  
  
_monstermonstermonstermonsterYOUREAMONSTERmonstermonster_  
  
Of course, they’d tried to convince Logan that oh yes, it’d be painful (they were sure that it had to have been painful to put the stitches in, they highly doubted pain would be a drawback), but they could remove the stitches, they could patch him up, they could fix this, they would fix this.  
  
Logan was adamant, though.  
  
This was for the better.  
  
They’d always told him how blunt he was, how nagging, and they hadn't had to tell him how bitchy he was for him to know. They had never cared to listen to him and his over-excited rants. He knew he was a nuisance. He knew they didn’t care for what he had to say- and he didn't expect them to. As long as his mouth was sewn shut, he couldn’t hurt them, couldn't drag them down. This was for the better.  
  
_brokenbrokenbrokenBROKENBROKENYOUBROKEHIM_  
  
Patton sniffles, reaching up to run his fingers through his hair, tugging harshly.  
  
He’s fallen back into his old ‘clumsy’ ways.  
  
He’d also ‘fallen’ down the stairs yesterday.  
  
The boys hadn’t left him alone since.  
  
He doesn’t know why. Can’t they see? He deserves it, any bruise or broken bone. Not even _that_ is monument to what he deserves.  
  
_deserveitdeserveitYOUDESERVEALLOFITdeserveitdeserveitdeserveit_  
  
If he’d only told Logan to be quiet a little nicer, a little gentler, if he'd have quit being such a little _baby_ , such a _stupid, emotional, child_ , then this wouldn’t have happened, then Logan would be safe and whole and for god’s _sake_ , he wouldn’t have _sewn his own mouth closed_.  
  
Patton retches a little just thinking about it. About the blood, about what was going through Logan’s mind while he was doing it. Was he thinking of them? Thinking that this was what they wanted?  
  
Or was he thinking of nothing, too distracted by the pain, or too busy focusing on making sure his hands didn’t shake?  
  
Patton loathe to think of it, but he couldn’t help wonder.  
  
_disgustingdisgustingYOUREDISGUSTINGdisgustingdisgustingdisgusting_  
  
To be honest, Patton is astounded that Logan even wants to be around him anymore. In fact, to Patton’s utter confusion, Logan seems to be spending the most time with him.  
  
Patton doesn’t get it. He doesn’t _get it_. If he were in Logan’s position, he’d _despise_ himself. Hell, he already does. He doesn’t _get. it._  
  
He asked. He asked. Of course, he asked, but Logan’s response was a calm, ‘ _Why not?_ ’, which certainly wasn’t informative.  
  
But Patton couldn’t complain- Logan was still nice to him for some godforsaken reason, still wanted to be around him, and Patton would hate himself even more than he already did if he dared to complain.  
  
So, Logan wasn’t angry at him- for some reason-. Patton would take what he could get, right?  
  
Even if what he could get…  
  
Well.  
  
Even if what he could get wasn’t anywhere near what he deserved.  



	3. Plead The Fifth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan promised he’d take out the stitches once a year had passed. The day has come, and the boys are doubtful.

‘Today’s the day.’ Roman’s tone is that of muted excitement.  
  
‘Do you think he’ll follow through?’ Virgil follows up quickly with his own doubt-ridden query. No one can blame him. Deceit reaches over, staying silent and gently rubbing circles into the older Side's back.  
  
‘…I hope so.’ Patton’s is the most unique. A mixture of bitterness and hope that the others can't blame.  
  
‘He promised he’d take out the stitches today- something about some old practice-, why wouldn’t he follow through?’ Roman doesn’t mean it to sound argumentative- they’re all worried.  
  
‘Well, what if he changes his mind?’  
  
‘Oh like he’s been such a loose cannon since he _sewed his mouth shut_ , Virge, I’m absolutely sure he’d do something much wilder than that-’  
  
‘Uh kiddos-’  
  
‘You don’t _know-_ ’  
  
‘And you do?’  
  
‘Guys-’  
  
‘Why would you assume the best at this point-’  
  
‘ _Guys!_ ’  
  
It’s Deceit who gets their attention, and both Virgil and Roman whip around to face him, seconds away from snapping.  
  
The second they see his face, though, they stop. He’s smiling nervously and…and they follow his gaze to the doorway, where Logan is standing, looking…oddly calm. Far calmer than any of the rest of them, at least. He's been that way throughout this entire ordeal.  
  
But the stitches are gone.  
  
There’s scarring, oh is there scarring.  
  
But the stitches are gone.  
  
‘Oh thank god- _Logan-_ ’ They’re not really sure which one of them said it, because then Patton is rushing forward, throwing his arms around Logan in a tight hug.  
  
A few moments pass before Logan returns the hug, lightly rubbing Patton’s back. The calmness in his movements is…off. But the boys can’t place their finger on what about it makes them uncomfortable. They shift, grimacing a little.  
  
Patton pulls away after a few moments, meeting Logan’s eye, ‘Gosh- sit down, come on.’ Patton isn’t meaning to fawn, but can you blame him?  
  
He leads Logan to sit down, borderline ordering Roman to get him a glass of water. Roman is quick to do so either way, bringing it over and handing it to Logan, who takes it eagerly, nodding his thanks. Virgil feels a vague chill down his spine. It reminds him all too much of…  
  
_Why didn’t he SAY thank you? No, no, his mouth was probably dry, that was why, of course, of course._  
  
Logan pauses, staring at the glass in his hand as he carefully opens his jaw, stretching it and wincing a bit. After a few moments, he seems to adjust, because then he lifts the glass to his mouth and within two pulls he’s downed the entire thing. He sets it on the table again, and then…silence.  
  
The boys watch him expectantly, but he just looks at them blankly, and it’s unnerving, to say the least.  
  
‘Logan…say something.’ The tone is erring on a plea.  
  
Logan looks up slowly, and after a few moments, he gives a small shake of his head.  
  
The boys all share an anxious glance.  
  
‘L-Lo, _please._ ’  
  
It’s Patton this time, and the look Logan gives him is pained. But he doesn’t speak. He doesn’t say a fucking word, just gives a small negative motion with his head.  
  
‘Why _not?_ ’ Logan’s gaze shifts to Roman and the look in his eyes flickers to pitying.  
  
But he’s silent.  
  
‘Will you- phone?’ Logan pauses a long moment, debating, and then he slowly, hesitantly nods. He pulls out his phone, and a good 30 seconds later he turns it to face them.  
  
_It’s better when I don’t talk._  
  
The second Patton reads it, he’s shaking his head furiously. They’ve had this argument before, but.  
  
‘No, Lo, it’s not, it’s not, I-I…I’ve missed your voice, we all have.’  
  
Logan stares at the older Side for a moment, then starts furiously typing on his phone, turning it to them again, jaw set.  
  
_I don’t need you to lie to me. I know I’m a nuisance. A bully. ‘Taking one for the team’, is it not?_  
  
This time it’s Virgil shaking his head, ‘Logan, you’re _not_ a nuisance, you- you're trying, you're better now, you- we- we were just big jerks, you- you haven’t done anything wrong, not in a long time, you were just- being yourself, and we- we were assholes.’  
  
Logan tilts his head, eyes narrowing. Another pause for him to type.  
  
_‘Myself’ only annoyed all of you. If I don’t talk, I can’t annoy you, or talk over you. I can't hurt you. I care for you all, and I hope this is adequate in showing you that._  
  
Patton screws his eyes shut for a second, looking ready to throw up. Virgil reaches out, setting a hand on his shoulder, which Patton readily leans into.  
  
He opens his eyes again, swallowing thickly.  
  
‘Lo…I-I love, and- and _miss_ hearing you talk about all the things you’re passionate about. I-I miss how your eyes would light up, and I miss how excited you got when we listened to you. A-anything I’ve said, or we’ve said, to put you down for trying to- to talk sense into us or- or just ranting…there’s not an excuse but-…but I’m sorry.’  
  
Logan’s jaw trembles for a second, cool gaze wavering uncertainly.  
  
Then he puts his phone back in his pocket.  
  
And they think, just for a second, that he’s going to talk.  
  
But his jaw tightens and he offers a sympathetic look before standing and leaving the room, rather fast at that.  
  
Patton stares at his chair for a second before pressing a shaking hand to his mouth, grinding his teeth in an attempt at restraining the sob attempting to escape his mouth.  
  
The others seem shaken, but Virgil is quick to wrap his arms around Patton’s shoulders, allowing the older Side to bury his face into his shoulder. He notes that Deceit is leant heavily against the counter and Roman looks vaguely like he doesn’t know what to do with himself.  
  
To be honest? Virgil expected this.  
  
That practice Logan had told them about- he’d read up on it. They’d take the stitches out of their mouth after a year, to see if they’d learned to talk less.  
  
That was what Logan was doing. He was just…taking it to an extreme.  
  
But really? Virgil couldn’t blame him.  
  
No, no; he blamed himself. He blamed all of them for letting it get to that point. But he couldn’t blame Logan- he could see how this would be logical. Sickening. But…logical.  
  
Heh.  
  
Funny how that works, right?


End file.
